26
A bang. A rumble. She flinched and shuddered.
A growl. A roar. She held her breath and then snapped her eyes open.
Something like a grin on Janine's lips. A rasping breath came from her mouth. Her eyes were wide open. A fleeting flash of surprise and contempt shot through them.
The gun slowly slipped out of her hand and eventually…finally, her body began to slump. As she fell forward her now almost glassy gaze met Molly's.
Motionless for shock she followed Janine's fall with her eyes, until the brunette's lifeless body hit the ground a few steps away from her.
Molly blinked a few times feeling a little groggy, breathless and racing pulse. There was another gloomy roar and she winced. A blue flash ripped through the sky. Then thunder and lightning followed one another relentlessly until it started to rain. A storm.
Molly sighed in relief and her head sunk once more in the pillow as her breathing became more even and in doing so she allowed her body to relax as well. She was not on the hospital's roof in Cork. Not anymore.
She was safe now. In London. At 221b Baker Street. In her bedroom. Well, not really hers. Sherlock's. But he wasn't there with her. Something was wrong with him. Molly felt it in her bones and let out a further sigh, of concern this time.
He had been loving and protective of her in the hectic hours following Janine's killing by Sergeant Donovan. But all along he had been pensive and frowning, trying not to let her notice his brooding mood.
He had hardly spoken, except for what was strictly necessary, either during the helicopter trip from Cork to London or during the cab ride from the heliport to Baker Street.
On both occasion he had sat next to her looking out the window, his hands tightly intertwined as if he were afraid to even touch her. And Molly was sure Mycroft's and John's presence had nothing to do with it although Sherlock was not a man who particularly liked public displays of affection.
So at the moment Molly had ascribe this attitude of his to the fatigue. And it was no wonder, since in the past forty-eight hours he had subjected both his body and mind to a considerable waste of energy. He hadn't slept, he hadn't eaten. He had run far and wide, spinning like a top to find and save her.
Surely the many emotional ups and downs that followed her abduction and attempted murder must have been truly exhausting to manage for a man who until recently had believed he had no feelings and that they were on the losing side. Therefore it made sense he felt dead tired, drained.
But Sherlock's mood hadn't improved even when the two of them were left alone. They had dined, or rather she had dined because Sherlock had limited himself to nibble something here and there, practically in silence. Molly had tried to strike up a conversation but was soon discouraged as he either answered her in monosyllables or not at all.
While she cleared the table, Sherlock had sat in his chair. His hands steepled under his chin, his eyes closed. He was about to linger in his mind palace. She knew that he could remain like that, motionless and alien to everything around him, for hours, so she decided not to disturb him and go to bed hoping he would do the same.
But not to make love to him. Not that night. All she needed from him was to be held in his arms and to hold him in hers.
She had changed into her nightgown with deliberate slowness, expecting to see him appear in a few minutes. But it didn't happen.
She had been awake for a while, thinking and rethinking what was bothering him so much that he closed in on himself like that. But soon she had collapsed under the weight of the exhaustion and emotions of those last two days.
Molly rolled onto her left side and buried her face in Sherlock's pillow. Through it she could smell his scent just as she could still feel the warmth of his body through the sheets which meant he had at least slept and rested a bit. But that he went to bed after she fell asleep and got up before she woke up, it was hardly a good sign.
With a leap Molly pulled herself straight up. A sudden, foolish idea about why Sherlock was so grumpy had crept into her mind. She chewed her bottom lip as she thought back to what he said as he carried her out of the cottage. No, it couldn't be!
Molly tossed the sheets aside and swung her legs off the bed. Never, in the most absolute way, she'd allow him to make decisions that concerned her without being consulted! Hadn't she made it clear enough as he carried her to safety?
With a combative soul Molly opened the bedroom door and as she picked her hair into a dishevelled ponytail, she marched briskly towards the kitchen where she could hear noises coming from. Whatever scene she expected to see was certainly not the one before her eyes.
Shirtless, wearing only his pyjamas bottoms, loosely lowered to his hips, Sherlock juggled the pan where the bacon was sizzling, the bowl in which he was beating the eggs and the toaster. The room was filled with the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee and the table was set for two.
Between plates, cutlery, cups, Molly caught a glimpse of butter, honey, cherry jam and pancakes. And in the centre a small transparent glass vase stood out, containing a spectacular combination of yellow and white orchids.
"Hey!" Sherlock exclaimed noticing her presence. He smiled at her, a cheerful loving smile that made his eyes sparkle. "A few more minutes and it will be ready" he said. "What are you doing?" Molly asked, appalled by his attitude, totally different from the previous day, "Breakfast!" answered he as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and at the same time turned off the stove.
"Taste" he walked over to her holding some mushrooms stuck on a fork, "Sherlock, I think…" she began to speak bracing herself to the back of a chair, but he interrupted her, "Taste this" he gave her another dazzling smile and blew on the mushrooms "Careful, it's hot" and serviced it to her.
Molly rolled her eyes and opened her mouth. She ate, her eyes glued to Sherlock's to try to figure out what was on his mind, "Good, right?" his was more a statement than a request for confirmation. She nodded without taking her eyes off him, "Sherlock, what are you doing?" she asked him again frowning deeply and fully aware he was pretending not to understand.
Sherlock drew in a deep, slow breath "I have to apologize" he whispered lowering the fork on the table, "What for?" she asked tilting her head to one side to be able to better observe Sherlock's face since he had lowered his gaze, "For being a complete idiot yesterday" he finally said.
"I had to think about the two of us so I completely isolated myself from you" his hands went on her cheeks, "I find you really…distracting" he recognized with a hint of a smile. Molly took a breath and raised her head to look at him in the eyes, "Sherlock, I thought I was crystal clear after you saved me. I'm stuck with you, no matter what".
"You nearly died twice yesterday" Sherlock fought firmly back cradling her head in his hands, "I know" she sighed and slipped her thumbs into his pyjamas belt to draw him closer, "So what is this? You apologize and then break up with me?" she asked in a whisper, a slight tremor in her voice.
Molly breathed in and would have gone on talking, ready to subvert all the cons that Sherlock surely had stored in his brilliant mind, were it not that she suddenly found her lips captured by his.
For a split second she thought about resisting that kiss but when the tip of Sherlock's tongue gently stroked her lip, Molly found herself opening her mouth, letting their tongues dance in harmony.
Sherlock broke the kiss to breathe and let out a sort of growl, "Do I apologize to you? Yes, I was an idiot to keep you at arm's length yesterday" he mumbled as he left a trail of wet kisses on her neck, "It will probably happen other times because…I'm an idiot, that's it!".
He looked up to meet her eyes, "Break up with you? Never" he claimed firmly, "I watched you sleep tonight…I realized I was just wasting time mulling over the ifs and buts".
Molly smiled softly at him, feeling a swell of emotions rise up deep in her gut, "I understand your fears about my safety. I'll accept whatever precautionary measures you decide to take, from being guarded by your brother's minions to taking self-defence or shooting classes" her hands had slipped inside his trousers. He was not wearing pants and Molly caressed his bare butt cheeks and then squeezed them to push him against her.
He gave her a mischievous smile and lifted her off the floor making her sit on the free side of the table. She burst in a fit of giggles that subsided as his hands laid on her knees.
Sherlock's eyes had pupils so dilated that it was no longer clear what colour they were and his gaze was so intense that for a moment Molly's heart seemed to stop beating.
"I love you" his voice was so hoarse and deep it sent shivers down her spine and a jolt of lust in her core, "Let me show you how much I love you…how much I need you" his legs slid between hers. Molly gave a little gasp and couldn't hold back a moan of desire as she felt him get hard against her thigh.
He kissed her as she pressed herself against him even more and her nails dug into his lower back's skin. As the kiss deepened Sherlock slid her nightgown's straps off her shoulders helping her to loosen them from her arms until they pooled around her waist leaving her bare chested.
Then he took care to free her hair from the elastic band that held it in a ponytail, and she could feel his hand threaded through it and held her head in place. Molly was completely lost in him. No one had ever made her feel so beautiful, sexy, desired and loved.
Her breathing was as erratic as Sherlock's as his eager eyes travelled slowly from her eyes to her breasts and when he cupped them, perfectly fitting in his hands, she had to lean on her elbows, her eyes half closing.
Sherlock gave her a slow, lazy smile as he lowered his head to her nipples. She threw her head back in anticipation of his tongue swirling around them and when his mouth too closed on them sucking and nibbling, Molly couldn't hold back a hoarse moan of pleasure.
She sat up and tugged on his hair a bit, just enough for him to lift his face "Enough foreplay, Mr Holmes" she growled, "I agree, Miss Hooper" he answered shifting her forwards to the edge of the table so that their hips met and she could feel how hard he already was for her.
Instinctively Molly wrapped her legs around his waist, opening herself totally to him as Sherlock's hands sensually caressed her outer thighs sliding them up her bum, kneading it and pulling her closer, "I want you. Now" she mumbled as his tongue entered her mouth.
Sherlock pulled back with an involuntary groan, "Here? Or on the bed?" he asked in a low, lust-filled voice. Molly cupped his face and her thumb brushed over his lips, "Your choice".